


Home is Wherever With You

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Basically Nick comes back instead of going to work after Myrtle's death, Daisy calls after all and Nick shuts her down, Gatsby taking care of Nick, Gatsby's pool, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nick taking care of Gatsby, Pre-Slash, fix it ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7113169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nick cannot bring himself to go to work the morning after Myrtle's death and returns to Gatsby's side to care for him. Wilson comes anyway, but everything works out in the end. </p><p>Alternatively; Nick is in love with a broken man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Wherever With You

**Author's Note:**

> I adore them. I love Gatsby. This novel is so beautiful. I love this.

There was a sort of incorrigible evanescence in the air as Gatsby sat, back ramrod straight, in a lawn chair on the back patio of his pool deck. His eyes were fixed, longing, on the dim emerald light pulsing across the bay. One of his elbows rested on the arm of the chair, his teeth working about the edge of his thumbnail. 

Without the extravagance of his infamous parties staining the flavor of his house, it seemed empty. His mansion presented as hollow and crumbling as Gatsby did. With the death of Myrtle Wilson after the events of their afternoon in the apartment, the man began to collapse into himself.

His goal, once as close enough to graze with his fingertips, had been torn from his grasp. Tom’s perpetual interference had resulted in the possibility of Gatsby luring Daisy into his arms vanishing into night. Letting her drive home was a last-ditch attempt to garner her trust, and it had proved a tragic mistake. A simple lapse in Gatsby’s better judgement ended with a shattered windshield and the end of a life. 

Combined with the death of Myrtle Wilson, a fine mist of her still hot blood cast across Gatsby’s face, the high-strung emotions of the day had sent Gatsby spiraling into a sort of hopeless attitude. Wrought with self-destruction, Gatsby stared, the phone silent on the table at his elbow. 

Exhaustion rimmed Nick’s eyes. The events of the night previous, hell, the months previous, made him sick to his stomach. Nothing was right anymore. Daisy was a God-damned coward, and, in Nick’s eyes, had no right to come smashing up Gatsby’s fragile stability. He had asked her too much, and saw no fault in himself at this. Everything else, yes, of course, but not asking her to declare she had never loved Tom. He could not accept that Daisy had never not loved him. 

If Nick’s cousin had just done anything but continuously gone about, unable to make a choice between the men in her life, perhaps Gatsby would understand. Nick wished he had never had Daisy over for tea. The woman had swept through with her half-promises and gentle caresses, only to leave Gatsby a husk of the man he had been.

Everything he had done for her, everything had built, was for naught. Daisy simply couldn’t find it within herself to leave Tom’s familiarity for Gatsby’s adulation. The horrible misery of the situation left Gatsby silent in a way Nick had never seen him. Gone was his hope for the life he had dreamed up for himself. 

He had built himself up around Daisy, and she had rotted through all of his foundations.

Nick ran a rough hand over his face before moving past Gatsby’s butler, breaking his internal reflection. His footsteps echoed across Gatsby’s still pool. He had returned home, prepared to go to work, but hadn’t been able to convince himself it was right to leave Gatsby there, alone. He was too fragile. 

Skirting the edge of the pool, Nick approached Gatsby and settled in the wrought-iron chair at his side. “Hello, old sport.” Gatsby spoke, voice rasping in lack of sleep. 

“Hello, Jay.” Nick responded, weary bones creaking as he sought a comfortable position. “I couldn’t work.” 

Jay gave a solemn nod, eyes hard as he looked out over the bay. Nick felt a slight twist under his heartstrings. “Jay…” He began, dropping his gaze to the stubbed out cigarettes at the millionaire’s feet. 

“What is it?” Gatsby inquired, tracing the seam of his thumb where his nail met the digit with his tongue. “You can tell me anything, old sport, you know.”

“Jay, come inside. It’s starting to cool down out here.” Nick responded instead hesitantly. 

“Why don’t we go for a swim instead?” Gatsby suggested, taking one last, slow look at the phone before standing. 

He stretched as if he had been sitting in that chair for hundreds of years. Nick stood quickly as well, placing a firm hand on Jay’s shoulder. “I’ve let this happen for months now. Let’s go inside, Jay.” 

Gatsby paused, seeming as if he were going to object, but then inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Yes, let’s.”

Nick led the way across the alabaster patio, skirting the edge of the pool. Gatsby walked at his side, more downtrodden than Nick had ever seen him. The once golden man appeared tarnished with an age untypical of him. The bondsman was reluctant to admit that he felt the urge to care for the broken man. 

Gatbsy’s butler secured the doors behind them, hiding Jay away from the world that had crushed his spirit so undoubtedly. Silent, the two men wandered the halls of Gatsby’s mansion. Nick noticed Jay strayed towards rooms with landlines. Shaking his head minutely, he placed a solid hand on the small of Gatsby’s back. 

“You need to get some rest, Jay. I’ll listen for a call.” He spoke gently, but firmly, nodding towards one of the several grandiose staircases. .

Jay neglected to reply, instead obediently climbing the staircase before Nick and heading to his wake. Nick followed in Gatsby’s wake as he always had; a dinghy drifting behind a grand ship. He had always been this way, for as long as he had known Jay.

When Gatbsy settled, shoulders slumping, onto his bed, Nick knelt to remove his shoes. He moved onto the millionaire’s cufflinks when Jay made no move to undress himself. Nick settled with undoing the button of Gatsby’s collar, then drew back the covers and patted the sheets. Gatsby crawled into bed, face worn and blank with exhaustion. 

A fond little smile tugging at the corners of Nick’s lips, he gently tucked Jay in, smoothing the comforter down around him before grasping his hand and squeezing. “Get some rest, Jay.” He said softly, trailing his thumb over the other’s knuckles.

Gatsby’s breath left him in one slow sigh, his lashes falling like fine mist against his cheeks. Nick swallowed tightly, coursing with worry over the man. 

It was only an hour or so later when he was alerted by Gatsby’s head butler about the commotion that had happened on the back patio. Wilson with a gun, the man draining the pool bleeding out into the shallow water, Wilson’s viscera splattered across the cool white face of Gatsby’s back door. 

Nick left the room to attend the company of the policemen who had been called to the scene. He excused Gatsby’s actions, and he and the head butler dealt with the situation. The butler had the idea to pin the entirety of the night previous on the poolman. It was the servant instead of Gatsby or Tom who had been having an affair with Myrtle. Gatsby wouldn’t need to go to trial. Everything would be alright again. 

At the shrill insistence of the phone just inside, Nick headed inside to receive the news. It was her, after all. 

“Jay,” She whispered, voice tense. Nick knew she was bent, eyes darting towards the door for sight of Tom, knuckles white due to her grasp on the phone.

He licked his lips nervously. “He doesn’t want to hear from you, Daisy.” He spoke bluntly. “We’ve just had a man killed by Wilson. It could have been him. Please, let him alone.”

Daisy was silent on the other end for a long few moments. 

“It’s over.” Nick added, remaining firm although he wanted to cry at the desperation of it all.

When Daisy answered, her voice was cold with upset. “Oh, Nicky. Maybe it should have been him. I... I wanted to tell him I was going with Tom. We’re going away, Nicky. He and Pammy and I. We’re going very far away. I won’t see either of you again. Not for a very long time.”

Nick nodded, although he knew Daisy couldn’t see him. “It’s for the best. Just...let him alone.” 

The call ended without a response from Daisy. Nick slumped into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. This was all so much. He wanted, quite frankly, to crawl up beside Gatsby and sleep for the next few days. He wanted this to all blow over before he woke up.

Nick rubbed at his eyes, trying to blink away his weariness. He stood weakly, trusting Gatsby’s head butler to deal with all that was happening just this moment. He just needed to close his eyes for a moment. 

He was in Gatsby’s bed when he awoke. The comforter was tucked in around him, his shoes, overshirt, and pants removed. He blinked up at the vault ceiling, feeling slightly refreshed if not still weary. It took nearly all his effort to roll over, the down pillows soft and inviting beneath him. 

A note lay on the nightstand, folded so Nick’s own name was visible in Gatsby’s swooping, majestic script. He smiled slowly as he opened and read the note. An invitation to sleep as long as he needed, the note read,

“Nick,

Please forgive my attitude over the past few days. I have not been in a right sense of mind. Sleep as long as you need, and help yourself to any ablutions you need to complete. You may borrow any of my belongings, clothes included. Do come see me when you are ready. We will stay in for a meal. I appreciate everything, old sport.

Yours,   
Jay.”

Nick’s gentle smile transformed into a grin, and he settled deeper into the pillows, clutching the note tightly. He knew Jay would be there when he awoke, and everything would be alright again.


End file.
